"She believed in fate. He didn't want to cope with destiny." For a girl who was searching for the perfect man, all it took was for the imperfect boy to smile and make her look.
A/N WHAT TIME IS IT? SUMMER TIME. IT'S OUR VACATIOOON! I haven't written in 3rd person in so long, and this style is a little different from what I normally write, but enjoy anyways :D
Review and I'll return the favour because I have an embarrassingly low amount of signed reviews I've given haha :P
I don't even think that it's literarily possible to have a prologue part 1 and 2, but the second section didn't mesh too well so...
Prologue (Part I)
On Azalea Doyle's ninth Christmas Eve, she wore her neon yellow raincoat and plaid rubber boots.
Her short legs swung impatiently over the leather seat as she wrapped her fingers around her mother's ring-clad ones. Her chamoisee eyes stared intently at the people sitting across from her in the sleepy tramcar. She wondered what they were dreaming about.
Finally, her mother pulled her up and hand in hand, they exited the bus together. The streets were misty from the winter showers they've been experiencing, but she liked how the lampposts made the sky almost glow. "Mommy, what'd I get for my present?" she asked as her feet splashed into a puddle. The water soaked the hem of her loose socks.
"Honey, please stop doing that. And you'll see once we get home," her mother scolded as she squeezed her daughter's hand.
Fiona Doyle was an austere woman who had more pride than a lion. She wore every piece of jewellery she owned- intent on displaying her wealth. Fiona hated nothing more than feeling inferior among other families.
Azalea pulled away from her mother in a huffy manner and strayed to the corner shops. There were rows and rows of shiny fruits in baskets waiting to be picked.
"Sweetie, where do you think you're going?" Fiona called from the sidewalk.
She ignored her mother and examined a bruised apple sitting on top of the pile. In one swift movement, the apple was snatched up by a boy. The thief pushed her against the wooden crates and started to sprint past the crowds of people before he disappeared behind a corner. "Hey! You!" a round, moustachioed man came running out of the store with a fist raised in the air. He cursed under his breath, "Filthy street rats!"
Fiona marched over and grabbed her daughter by the hand, "Baby are you hurt?" but her eyebrows quickly furrowed, "Don't you ever do that again Azalea Emery Doyle!" She aggressively dragged Azalea back onto the sidewalk and refused to let go of her little hand.
Azalea fumed all the way home because her mother's grip around her wrist was so tight. But once they reached Robin Street, her sensitive ears picked up on faint sniffling. She spotted a ratty mitten peeking out from an alley. Curious, she yanked her mother's hand off of her arm and ran towards the alley.
There, she discovered the boy from earlier tucked cozily in a corner. He was nibbling on that same stolen apple. Azalea knew that her mother would've snorted at his appearance, but she found him rather intriguing. His face was scar-ridden and soiled with soot, while his windswept hair was bleached from too many days spent under the sun. But at least his wild eyes were charming, they glimmered a brilliant shade of royal blue.
She noticed that he wasn't wearing any shoes, and the soles of his feet were darkened and blistered.
"Why are you crying?" her wide eyes blinked.
The boy wiped his nose that was red from the cold, "I'm not crying," he sniffed defensively.
"See? You're crying right now!" Azalea accused as he blew his nose on his shirttail.
"Leave me alone!" he shouted at her. He threw his apple, but it took a measly dive by her feet.
Instead of running away, she persisted with asking more questions, "Where's your mama and papa? It's Christmas Eve, so why aren't you with your family?"
The boy turned away from her, "I don't have one," he snapped sharply.
Azalea crouched down beside him, "Everyone has a mama and papa, maybe yours just got lost somewhere," she said sympathetically. "I'm Azalea, what's your name?"
He looked reluctant, but his mouth formed a single word, "Hunter."
"Okay Hunter, if you don't find your mama soon, I can be your pretend-mama for now. See that white and blue house over there? That's mine, I can sneak you cookies so you don't have to steal anymore," she offered.
Before he could answer, Fiona began to storm towards the two kids. "Azalea! There you are! You are in big trouble, missy!"
"Meet me here at eight o'clock tomorrow morning!" Azalea said in a hushed voice. Fiona lifted her up and carried her across the street.
"What were you thinking? That miscreant could have harmed you!" She chided.
The next morning, Azalea took three sugar cookies from the cabinet and slid them into a brown paper bag. She slipped out of the house with ease because her parents weren't awake at this hour. The chilly December air pricked her skin as she ran across the road. Hunter wasn't there yet, so she waited patiently, clutching the paper bag with two hands.
Minutes later, he came running towards her, out of breath and wheezing. He too, was holding a bag, except it was made out of fabric ripped from his sleeve. He tripped and dropped the bag on the ground. A bunch of miscellaneous items spilled out.
"Are you okay?" Azalea asked him as she cocked her head to the side. Hunter scrambled to his knees and began to frantically gather all the items. "I brought the cookies," she shoved the bag into his hands. He looked up at her.
"I brought you some stuff too," Hunter muttered in embarrassment. He got up and handed her the fabric sac. She peered inside and pulled out a couple of stones and feathers. "I know they aren't crystals or anything, but I thought girls liked pretty stuff...not that I think they're pretty-"
She interrupted by flinging her arms around him. "Merry Christmas!"
Hunter, not used to any gestures of affection, tensed his body in discomfort until she finally let go. She placed the speckled feather into her hair and twirled around.
He stared at his own present, wondering if he should offer her one of the cookies. He was reluctant, but he didn't want to seem rude either, so he reached into the bag and held a single cookie out to her, "Do you want one too?"
Azalea smiled, "It's okay, I have more at home."
Hunter devoured the sugary sweets in a matter of several bites. She laughed when he grinned a crumb-sprinkled smile.
And they were the best of friends ever since.
A/N So there's part one :) I already have the second part written, but I need to see if I'll have any motivation to write the rest 'cause I'm the reincarnation of a sloth. It's short but thanks for reading :D
(I didn't even realize that the mustachioed man sounded like Jafar from Aladdin until I re-read it...oh well)